Work Text:
All Mine
Sometimes, Naomasa Tsukauchi wants to take a knife and drive it into his chest, rip out his heart and dissect it under one of the microscopes in the evidence room. He wants to take it apart, analyze the samples and discover what makes it beat, what keeps him going in spite of the horrors he sees every day while working for the force. He’s sure that if he did that, he’d find a few things. He’d find his nephew, all starry-eyed and too good for this world, precious and inspiring without even knowing how to talk yet. He’d find his mother, always kind, always knowing the right things to say to him, gone too soon. And he’s sure he’d find All Might, too. The hero with the magic fist that stole the hearts of everyone in the world, the blue-eyed wonder with the million-dollar smile. The man that uprooted his life, turned it upside down and inside out and painted his entire left atrium in royal blue.
It’s midnight when Naomasa Tsukauchi hears the familiar, tell-tale creak of his front door opening. It doesn’t wake him up, though. He hasn’t been granted the luxury of falling asleep. Not tonight. Not after the earth-shaking explosion that had gone off a few miles from his home several hours ago.
He could see the smoke billowing in charcoal clouds high above the cityscape from his bedroom window and felt his stomach twist. He knew what it meant. He always knew what it meant when there was any sort of disaster or attack or criminal activity or anything in Japan. It meant that the country would be relying on its number one hero to save the day - to rush in and risk his life to save the day, to protect the lives of innocents. The rumble in the pavement and the ripple in his coffee always meant the same thing. Every time. Without fail.
It meant, without a doubt, that All Might would be coming to the rescue.
Turning on the local news station confirmed his assumption, flipping through the channels revealed that a bomb had gone off somewhere in the city and that thousands of lives were at stake. No matter how hard Naomasa pressed the upwards arrow on the remote, the pictures flashed before his eyes in sickeningly bright colors— flashes of blue and gold, red and white, the colors that meant hope, colors that meant help is on the way . At least, for most of the world.
Naomasa’s eyes couldn’t see any of that when he saw those colors, those bright and beautiful colors flashing across his screen. Naomasa’s eyes were too focused on the stains of scarlet splashed against the cobalt of All Might’s costume, red where it shouldn’t be, red revealing secrets. Red that whispered through spandex and blared through television speakers screaming: he’s hurt. He’s pushing himself too hard.
Naomasa had turned off the television and busied himself with detective work. What was the point of trying to relax on his day off when there was so much for him to worry about? How was he supposed to relax when the person who matters most to him in the world might not make it out of this one?
That was always the risk. Naomasa knew that when he started this relationship. He knew what he was getting into when he fell, hard, for the Symbol of Peace. And he’d do it all over again. He’d wait up for one thousand nights, worried sick, if it meant that he could fall in love with Toshinori Yagi.
Now, at exactly 12:03 AM, Naomasa can hear him breathing from down the hall. He can hear socked feet against hardwood making their way towards his bedroom. Excitement bubbles up inside of him, relief flooding his vision as his bedroom door opens quietly and the person that he loves most in the world sits on the edge of his bed.
Naomasa turns over in bed. “Long day?”
Toshinori freezes in the middle of taking off his socks, shoulders tensing with a sideways glance at the clock on the dresser. It’s late, and he hadn’t called. Naomasa can tell from his reaction that he’d been hoping to find Naomasa asleep.
“Hey,” Toshi says softly, turning to brush the sides of Noamasa’s face. “I didn’t wake you up did I?”
“No,” Naomasa admits. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Toshinori doesn’t say anything, but he hums in acknowledgement. He pulls off his shirt with a heavy sigh, tossing it carelessly to the floor. In the darkness, Naomasa can’t see how bad the damage is. From the way Toshinori is moving, slowly like his bones are made of class, wincing with every shift of his muscles, Naomasa can tell that he’s in pain.
“Are you hurt?” He whispers, reaching out to touch the calloused skin of his lover as gently as possible.
“Nah,” Toshinori lies, leaning into the touch. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”
Naomasa frowns. “You said that when your stomach got blown apart.”
“Well,” Toshinori says with a smile, “you got me there.”
He starts to laugh, but as his chest begins to shake he starts to cough. Softly at first, and then violently until blood spills from his lips and into his boney hand, spluttering and splattering across Naomasa’s freshly cleaned sheets.
Naomasa doesn’t complain. He grabs the towel that he keeps beside his bed for this very reason and hands it to Toshinori.
“I’m sorry,” Toshinori says, wiping his mouth. He closes his eyes and winces as another coughing fit overtakes him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Naomasa promises. “You pushed yourself too hard today.”
The silence that falls between them is thick and heavy. It fills Naomasa’s nostrils, flooding his lungs and choking him with painful, unspoken honesty. He knows that there’s no point in saying anything more than what he already has, there’s nothing to argue about. There’s no point in bringing attention to what both of them already know.
He’s tried t alking about it before. They’ve argued about it.
But Toshinori’s answer is always the same.
“There were lives at stake.” Toshinori says with another cough.
“There are always lives at stake, Toshi.” Naomasa rubs his lover’s back and leans in close. Toshinori moves with his touch and leans his head against Naomasa’s shoulder. “It doesn’t mean you need to kill yourself.”
“I’m a hero , Nao.”
Now that he’s closer, Naomasa can see the scars that have already started healing from today’s work. He can see the bruises, black and grey and yellow splotches that stand out against the Toshinori’s pale skin, visible even in the vanilla glow from the moonlight that shines through the window.
“It’s my job .”
Naomasa kisses the blonde hair on his shoulder and holds Toshinori as tightly as he can without causing him pain.
I know , he thinks to himself, I know it’s your job.
But why does it always have to be you?
He’s selfish. He knows that. He’s lucky enough to get moments like these with Toshinori. Moments of quiet and comfort in the warmth of his bed. Moments reserved for just the two of them, secret lovers with nothing to lose but each other. But...
But it kills him to think about how much it would hurt if anything were to happen to Toshinori. How little anyone would understand what he’s going through. How hard it would be to see the world mourning All Might, crying out at the loss of the Symbol of Peace, no one knowing how much he’s hurting because no one knows about them. No one knows about the small apartment that they share, about One For All or All For One. No one knows about the stolen kisses, those rare nights of endless laughter, or the hundreds of dollars Naomasa’s spent replacing blood-stained sheets.
If Toshinori died, the world would lose All Might. The Symbol of Peace. The greatest hero in history.
But Naomasa? He’d lose Toshi . He’d lose his best friend, his lover, his best kept secret. He’d lose the tall and lanky idiot that loves eating take-out food and watching bad American sci-fi movies. He’d lose so much more than his favorite hero.
He tilts Toshinori’s head back and brushes their lips together. He feels the blonde melt in his arms and tastes the familiar and bitter flavor of blood on his lover’s lips. Toshinori kisses him back, arms wrapping around him, limbs tangling together in a mess of sheets.
Naomasa decides to skip the “you need to be more careful” speech. Because if he knows anything about Toshi, he knows that nothing he says will change the fact that Toshinori Yagi will always be All Might.
He doesn’t know how many more nights they’ll have together. When you’re dating a professional hero, there’s always a risk that they might not come home.
When you’re dating All Might, that risk is one thousand times higher.
So he doesn’t press it. He doesn’t want to spend their night arguing about something that has no resolution.
He just wants to enjoy Toshinori. Right now. Just like this. He wants to keep Toshinori in his arms, taste the bitter sting of copper on his lips and protect their secret with all that he has.
You’re mine. You’re all mine.
“I love you, Toshi.” He whispers, holding him close.
“I love you too.”